by Josie Kerr
“Oh, baby, you don’t even want to know. All sorts of dirty stuff.”
Molly’s eyes popped wide at his candor, and she shrieked as he pounced on her, pressing her back into the couch. He whispered an example of what he wanted to do and was thoroughly pleased when her cheeks pinked up. He kissed her again, and again, and a third time before he forced himself to sit up. Buddy pulled Molly into his lap, and her arms went easily around his neck.
“I gotta go in just a few minutes. I have to pick Lucy up at her mama’s.” Buddy kissed Molly’s cheek. “But I’d like to see you again, maybe have a proper date—you know, at night, et cetera.”
“Et cetera?”
Buddy laughed. “Maybe not et cetera. I, um, don’t want to rush into things, you know.”
Molly nodded, suddenly serious. “I do. And I appreciate that a lot. You’re a good father, Buddy. That’s the most important thing.” She gave him a peck on the cheek. “So I get it. We’ll play it by ear, okay?”
“Okay.” His alarm rang, and he shook his head. “Sweet-pea time.”
Lou barked once, and Molly laughed. “I think Lou wants to have a stern talk with me. So get your sweet pea, and I’ll talk to you this week?”
“Sounds good.” Buddy kissed Molly again and stood up, smoothing his shirt and pants. “You need to not look at me like that, Miss Mayhew.”
“Oh, but I like looking at you like that,” she said and collapsed into giggles again.
Buddy leaned down and gave her a kiss, a hot, sweet kiss full of promise. “See ya, Molly.”
“See ya, Buddy.”
He winked and headed toward the door. “Bye, Lou.” The big dog groaned and rested her head on her paws. Buddy lifted his hand in farewell to Molly. She waved back, and he left her house, feeling more hopeful about life than he had in a long, long time.
Chapter Twenty-six
Buddy had forgotten how uncomfortable it was coming in his jeans, but he’d do it again in a split second he could see that Molly’s post-orgasmic glow again. And hell yeah, he wanted to do some etcetera-ing as soon as possible. He popped into a lobby bathroom and after a bit of cleaning up, he headed to the elevator.
Buddy fidgeted as he rode up the elevator in the high-security apartment building that Natalie was staying in. He felt completely out of place. No, he felt old. Everyone he’d seen, with the exception of the security guard, was about twenty-five years old. How the hell could someone so young afford to live in a place like this? Maybe they were all television people.
He could definitely see why Natalie enjoyed living here. It looked just like her, all gleaming and shiny, with lots of reflective surfaces. He snorted. Good for checking your lip gloss, not so much for introspection.
Now that she had a definite spot on this unscripted show, there was definitely a routine, but he didn’t really like it, and he was absolutely not going to sign that media waver, even if he had to get a lawyer. He wanted to talk to Natalie tonight, but that wouldn’t happen because of Lucy. Their daughter didn’t need to see what Buddy was sure was going to devolve into a nasty argument. Natalie was used to getting her way, was used to him giving in because he didn’t like the drama, but he sure as hell wasn’t giving in to this bullshit.
Buddy reached the door of Natalie’s apartment, and he swore he heard the sound of loud male laughter from inside the apartment. He knocked on the door and waited for thirty seconds before knocking again. He was just getting ready to knock again when a very tan, toothy man opened the door while reaching for his wallet.
“You’re not the delivery guy,” Toothy said, frowning. “Who the hell are you?”
“Daddy!” Lucy ran to Buddy, dodging Toothy. She had her shoes on and her mermaid bag on her shoulder. “I’m ready to go.”
“Oh, okay. Don’t you need to tell someone something?” he prompted.
She rolled her eyes, turned and said, “Bye, Nat!” and was through the door and halfway down the hall before Buddy caught up to her.
“Lucy, what is—” Buddy began, only to be interrupted by Natalie’s strident voice calling his name. He would have ignored her except for the look on Lucy’s face when hearing her mother’s voice.
“You were just going to take her without me knowing?” Natalie came out into the hall. “That is not what we agreed on.”
Buddy blinked, but before he could retort, Lucy said, “I said good-bye.”
“Lucy, that’s not a tone you should use with anyone, much less your mother,” Buddy reprimanded her gently, but then he shot a look at Natalie because there must have been something that provoked such a reaction from the little girl. Then he noticed the guy with the camera.
“What the actual fuck, Natalie? What—” The guy was still filming, actually moving closer, and Buddy stepped in front of Lucy, blocking her from the camera. “Turn the camera off.”
The videographer shrugged. “Just doing my job,” he said but didn’t remove the camera from his shoulder.
“Turn. The camera. Off.” Buddy was livid, but he silently counted to ten before saying anything else. “Natalie, we agreed that Lucy was not going to be on the show,” he said as calmly as he could.
“No, you said she wasn’t going to be on the show,” Natalie said. “I want her on the show. She had a lot of fun filming today, didn’t you, sweet pea?”
“No, and only Daddy calls me ‘sweet pea,’ not you.” Lucy was peeking out from behind him and hanging on to his belt loops. “Can we go, please?” she said in a tiny voice.
“Yes, let’s go, Lucy.” Buddy pried her off his belt loops and picked her up. “Natalie, we’re not done discussing this.”
“I can’t believe you turned her against me so quickly,” Natalie said as she followed Buddy down the hall.
“Not talking about this now, Nat.”
Relieved that she didn’t follow him, Buddy made it to the elevator and pressed the down button.
Lucy rested her head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Daddy.”
“You have nothing to be sorry about, sweet pea. We’ll get it all sorted out, okay?”
She nodded.
“You hungry?”
She nodded again.
“What would you like?”
“A big salad bar.”
“Okay, we’ll go to the big salad bar.”
*****
Buddy let Lucy push her salad around on her plate for a while, and then he figured they needed to talk about exactly what happened during her stay at Natalie’s.
“So what did you do today? More pancakes? More Legoland?”
“No, we don’t eat pancakes anymore, not since she’s on the show. She said she had to watch her figure.”
“So what do you do?”
Lucy shrugged a shoulder. “We go to this place that’s all quiet and has smoothies and stuff that taste kind of like dirt. I don’t like it. It’s not a friendly place for little children.”
“I bet it’s not,” Buddy murmured, belatedly kicking himself for saying something out loud. “What did you do after that?”
She shrugged again. “I watched Nat get her hair and makeup done, and then I sat in her living room, and Mr. Mike videotaped us while she read to me like I can’t even read a Dr. Seuss book.” Lucy scoffed. “She won’t even take turns—it’s always her reading the same dumb book. I hate that book. It’s not even a good Seuss book.”
Buddy tried unsuccessfully to stifle his amusement at her scorn. “What book is it?”
“Go Dog Go,” she huffed.
“Oh yeah, you’ve never like that one. You used to cry when I would try to read it to you when you were little.” Buddy sighed. “What is it, sweet pea?”
Lucy chewed on her lip. “I wasn’t a very good baby, was I?” she asked hesitantly.
Buddy’s stomach knotted. “Honey, there’s no such thing as a bad baby, but you were the very best baby, Lucy. Why would you think otherwise?”
“But that’s why she left, isn’t it? Because I was difficult?”
Lucy’s pleading look broke Buddy’s heart at the same time that it made his blood boil. She got out of her seat and climbed into Buddy’s lap. He hugged her tight. “Truth bomb?”
“Truth bomb.” Lucy nodded her head in agreement.
“You were not an easy baby. You had lots of earaches, and you had something called colic, meaning you would cry a lot because your tummy hurt. I wasn’t home a lot because I was working, and Nat’s daddy had just died, and she was feeling very sad.” He tucked a stray curl behind Lucy’s ear. “You know how you get sick to your stomach when you feel afraid about doing something?”
Lucy nodded.
“Well, Nat felt like that, too.”
“And she needed to have quiet time, like I do.”
Buddy inhaled and suppressed the need to express his true opinions about Lucy’s mother, so he just agreed. “A lot like that.”
“Oh.”
Buddy could tell Lucy was thinking, and he said a silent prayer that his explanation was sufficient. Lucy was a very intuitive child—she was a lot like her aunt in that respect. He knew he wouldn’t get away with that story for long, but right now, it would have to do.
“Can I get some more ham for my salad?”
“Sure, sweet pea. Anything you want.”
She hugged him tight. “I love you, Daddy. You’re the best.”
“I love you, too, Lucy, and I think you’re the best.”
“And when I’m finished with my salad, we can go home and read a real book.” She rolled her eyes. “Okay?”
Buddy laughed. “Okay.”
Chapter Twenty-seven
“Well, that’s what you get for being slutty, Molly,” she muttered to herself as she struggled to replace the futon cover after washing it. She hadn’t heard from Buddy since he left her house the previous afternoon. Granted, it had just been a little over twenty-four hours, but still—not even a text? Nothing? She had started to text him several times to check and see how Lucy’s visit with her mother went but ultimately didn’t send any of them. It was really none of her business.
Their conversation at the doughnut shop swirled through her head. His anger at Boone didn’t surprise her at all. After all, Molly was very angry at Boone and found herself growing angrier as time passed. How dare he meddle with her career? It was bad enough that he’d made things so uncomfortable at her old school that she’d been “encouraged” to seek a transfer, but to claim that he was responsible for getting her this new position? Please. Buddy was right—Melissa would not have hired Molly if she didn’t think she was qualified. Boone might have gotten her in the door, but Molly got the job on her own merit—at least, she hoped so. Nevertheless, she planned on speaking candidly with Melissa, and she hoped the principal would be completely honest with her.
And then there was Buddy’s relationship with Lucy’s mother. Even when he found out Natalie had misrepresented their relationship, he didn’t say anything negative about her, despite being visibly frustrated. He also didn’t reveal any current issues that existed between them. Maybe they truly didn’t have any issues, or at least any large ones.
A little voice in the back of her head nagged her, reminding her that that butthead Boone also seemed to have a genial relationship with his supposed soon-to-be ex-wife. Molly snorted. Yeah, so genial that the woman assumed they were reconciling. Although, Boone could have led her on, made her think they were getting back together so he could have his cake and eat it, too.
Friggin’ Boone.
Molly zipped up the futon cover with such fury that she broke off the tab.
“Dammit,” she fumed. She turned to the dog, who watched her from a corner. “Louise Mandrell Mayhew, please do not roll in any more dead things. I just can’t take it.”
Louise had the decency to roll over and at least look ashamed, though Molly knew she wasn’t and that she wouldn’t hesitate to roll in the next questionable pile of yuck she happened to encounter.
“Okay, girl, your bed is ready.” Molly rose with a grunt. She snapped her fingers, and Lou ambled over to her bed, gave it a good sniff, and then proceeded to roll all over it. “That’s good—get it all smelling like a dog first thing, you big goofball.” She shook her head and did her own ambling into the kitchen to get something to the drink.
Molly had no sooner sat down on the sofa and turned on her go-to “don’t want to think about anything” movie than the doorbell rang. She debated not answering the door, but when the doorbell rang again, she hauled herself off the couch and looked through the peephole. It was her neighbor, Gertrude, with a casserole dish in her hands. Molly groaned. She liked her neighbor—Gertrude was lovely. The woman’s cooking? Not so much. The last casserole she brought over, Lou wouldn’t even eat. But the woman was a spinster, and Molly was just superstitious enough to not want to tempt fate, so she fixed a smile on her face and opened the door.
And found Boone chatting up Gertrude like they were best friends.
“Oh, there you are, Molly. I was hoping I’d catch you at home today,” Gertrude said. “You’ve been a little social butterfly lately, either not home or entertaining . . . friends.” Molly thought she saw the slightest leer from her elderly neighbor. Oh, brother. Gertrude thrust the casserole dish into Molly’s arms. “I’ll leave you to your handsome guest, Molly. Toodle-oo.” And she was off.
“Molly, honey, I think we had a little misunderstanding the night of the Fall Funfest that we need to discuss.” Boone sprawled across the doorway, blocking her in. The mixture of his strong cologne and the scent of whatever godforsaken hot dish that Gertrude concocted made Molly’s eyes water and stomach roil. She just wanted him to go away, for good.
“I have nothing to say to you, Boone. Please leave.” She attempted to duck under his arm to go back into the house, but he hedged her in so her back was pressed into the corner of the front porch.
“Now, you listen to me, Molly. I think I’ve been more than patient with you. I’m divorced now, so what’s the fucking problem? Now that I’m available, you don’t want me? Is that how you play?” Boone loomed over her. He was a man who was used to getting what he wanted, doing as he pleased, and Molly was over it. She was done, and the seven weeks of self-defense classes kicked in. Molly stomped on his foot and reflexively threw the casserole at him. The heavy Pyrex dish hit him and rebounded off his nose, bloodying it, and the mixture of olives, salmon, pimento cheese, and rice splattered down his chest.
Molly pointed at him. “No, Boone Cash, you listen to me. You are not welcome here. You are finished manhandling me and intimidating me. Right now, I’m going back into my house, and you are going to get in your car and drive away and not talk to me ever again. That means at school, too. And if you try to call me, text me, or even look at me, I’m calling the police.” She bent down and snatched the now-empty dish from where it lay on the ground. “So long, asshole.”
She stomped into the house and shut and locked the door behind her. She listened hard for the sound of Boone’s car pulling out of the driveway. After hearing the sound of tires on the gravel and risking a peek out the window to confirm he was gone, she finally relaxed. Actually, she fell apart, sinking to the floor and sobbing in the aftermath of the rush of adrenaline. Lou ran over to her, and Molly threw her arms around the big dog and hugged her tight. It was after Lou licked the remaining casserole from the sides of the dish and then licked Molly’s face that Molly began to laugh. She was going to have to go rinse the porch off if she didn’t want it to stink, but it could wait. Hell, maybe all the neighborhood cats would take care of the mess.
“Oh, man, Lou. This has been a crazy weekend, hasn’t it, girl?” She rubbed the dog’s ears and gave her scratches. The phone rang, and both Molly and Lou groaned. “I know, Lou. If it’s Mama, I’m going to ignore it, okay? Don’t rat me out.”
She glanced at the caller ID and answered, “Boy, am I thrilled to hear from you.”
Molly didn’t want to think about anything except for Buddy right then—n
ot Boone, not her old school, nothing. If it hadn’t been Sunday evening, she would have invited Lucy and Buddy over for dinner. As it stood, she figured Lucy was already in bed, hence the ability for Buddy to call. Hopefully, everything had gone well when he picked her up from her mother’s.
“Did everything go okay with Lucy last night?” she asked.
Molly heard him sigh, and her heart dropped. “Uh, not exactly. Molly, we have to talk.”
Fuck.
Chapter Twenty-eight
It had been weeks since the weekend that Molly and Buddy made out on the couch, since they’d had that semi-awkward conversation where he had an easy excuse of needing to concentrate on his relationship with Lucy, not that Molly begrudged him one second of time he spent with his daughter. In the interim time, Molly could tell things were a little stressful at home. Lucy fretted about things and was prone to cry if there was a shift in schedule, something she needed to address during this conference.
Molly fidgeted with her cardigan, rolling and unrolling the sleeves, while she waited for Buddy and Natalie to arrive. She’d been both dreading and anticipating this meeting. She wanted to see Buddy, but she didn’t want to see Natalie. She just prayed that she could keep it professional and broach the subject in an objective manner, though she had a sneaking suspicion that Natalie was the main source of discord.
And they were late. Molly sighed. She decided to give them ten minutes, and then she was going home. She was glad this was the last conference of the day because she could tell that she was going to need to go home and wallow with a boozy milkshake and a ridiculous movie, regardless of whether they showed up or not.
Buddy knocked on the open door and treated her with an embarrassed grin. “I’m so sorry, Mol—Miss Mayhew. A meeting ran long at the fight club and . . . you know what? You don’t care about any of this.” He shifted his weight from foot to foot, looking as tense as Molly felt. “Um, hi.”